Curt Synonym Novels & Stories

He groaned, crossing his little arms over his small chest. “Pick someone better to copy. Renato is not exactly a model citizen.” Chocolate snorted, obviously enjoying the back and forth Curtis and I were engaging in. Curtis tilted his head to one side, huffing. “He's my model citizen.” Chocolate’s smile softened as she looked at him. “That’s cute.” “Don’t encourage him,” I muttered.

Satisfied, I opened the door. Curt was standing on the other side, wearing jeans and a white shirt, open at the neck, with a brown suede jacket and matching brown boots. “Ready to go?” “Would you like to come in for a minute?” I asked as I stepped aside. He stepped inside and looked around. “Would you like some coffee?” I asked. He turned around and pulled me into his arms. “I’m going to miss you,” he said, smoothing back the hair away from my face as he looked in to my eyes. “I’ve had a really great time with you over the past few days.”

curt said dropping his darts before flying over the couch and landing on my left side. " I'm not being a dick... " kelvin said before smirking " you are " curt said " not " " yes " " not " " yes and I win! " I yelled dropping the game pad on the table before smiling.. " that's not fare, curt made me lose " kelvin said " I thought you said of you are into a game, you can ignore all that comes with it " I said grinning " not fare, don't use my words against me Addy poo " kelvin said.

Margot blinked her doe-like eyes as she gazed at the man before her. Her voice became increasingly faint. "Can't I call you 'Curt'? Your name is Curtis Crosby, right?" She didn't know why she had to call him "Curt", but it seemed very befitting for him. Curtis found himself unable to speak. As he gazed at the individual before him, the sound of her calling him "Curt" lingered in the air, a comforting familiarity that hinted at positive prospects.

She was even familiar with some of them. Curtis stood next to her. "I know some of them. They used to frequent Emerald Group's shooting range in the past. They're not as good as me." Gwen looked at him. "Are you praising yourself?" Curtis felt a little indignant. He thumped his chest. "I was once a shooting champion. Can't I praise myself?" He was more than 6 feet tall, but he was huffing like a petulant child at that moment. It was somehow quite adorable.

His wolf was still basking in the euphoria of being called big. "Wait." Curtis said suddenly, as if hit by a thunderbolt, his eyes widening as something dawned on him. Derek thought that something else had happened. He looked around them warily, but sensed nothing. "What is it?" He asked, his forehead scrunching lines visible as he watched his cousin stare at him like in a trance. "You haven't had your birthday yet, right?" Curtis asked, a note of slight accusation, then worry, and awe, all mixed, in his voice.

Not with the way grief twisted him into something unrecognizable. The front porch creaked as I stepped out. A slow wind rolled through the trees, whispering down the mountain like it was mourning with me. The Den wasn’t far. The walk gave me time to breathe, to brace myself. The forest was quiet today—almost too quiet. Even the birds kept their distance, like they knew the valley was in mourning. As I neared the clearing, I saw them. Curt stood by the edge of the fire pit, arms folded, head bowed. His hair was longer now, braided back like the Sentinels wore it, and his frame had thickened—muscle carved from years of training. He looked older. Sadder.